I'm Theo. You might remember me. I had a guest role in several 80's sitcoms. Thigns jus didn't work out for me, I guess.
I got married at one point in my career, but that didn't work out either. I still keep in touch with my Mother-In-Law, though.
Last week, she invited me over to dinner. She doesn't seem to be doing so well herself. Turns out, she'd only invited me over in a vindictive mood about my divorce from her daughter. She came at me with a knife at one point.
Well, I wrestled the knife away from her...
The waves crashed on the rocks at the point, Harold heard them, but only in that way you hear things just out of the way, like neighbours fighting or the alarm clock on bad mornings. He shook the ice in his glass and chewed the inside of his cheek. The bartender was giving him the side-eye as he dried the glasses.
A thick finger freed itself from Harold's fist, pointing up, waved towards his empty glass. The bartender, slapped the towel over his shoulder and fixed another gin and tonic.
Harold nodded and brought the drink to his lips.
He...
It was practically viral by now. the video a friend of mine had posted on youtube, of our mass dance party for cancer. Everyone was doing it. There was a practically a million other videos like ours, everyone doing our dance, to various remixes of that song. We had worn masks, for some bizarre reason, and evryone was doing that too. i had seen everything from drama masks to those little ones you see doctors wearing. I watched yet another video of people throwing their arms in the air and twisting their hips. I was kinda proud of us. coordinating...
The Bronx Zoo in my mind was empty. Maybe the gazelles were milling around Yankee Stadium, waiting for Catfish Hunter. The green grass of memory, my synapses folding in the sweeping July breeze, beheld the sweet roots of my birthday candles, climbing the kitchen air like lithesome monkeys, nimble as the imagination.
We were sitting in the basement, Danny and me. Tv's on. Hockey game. Upstairs ma and pa is fighting again. Bills. Or pa's philanderin'. Didn't know. Didn't care.
"Hey," Danny says. "Let's make a mix tape."
I roll my eyes a little but I don't say no. The two-deck tape player is in the basement as is my whole cassette collection. I know Danny doesn't like most of my music but he does like some songs (The Beatles' Birthday, The Who's Won't Get Fooled Again, The Pointer Sisters' Neutron Dance.)
So we start making a mix tape. Danny, who is...
I did not like the look of it. It had what other people might call poor aesthetic value. This thought was somewhat pointless though considering the mastery within the thing. It was about the size and shape of a lighter but had the colour and rough, jagged, texture of sea washed rocks.
Jenny had always said to be careful in what I was doing. Everyone else either seemed to think I was a bit eccentric or maybe more commonly just a nut case. I think Jenny only worried because she had sympathy for me though. I resented that. In reality...
Light. Heat. Flame. Fire. Water. Wind. Sky. Skymall. Worst catalog ever. Useless items. The infomercial of magazines. Gadgets and gizmos that nobody needs. Needful Things by Stephen King(s). Free-associating. The Association of Free Words. Become a member today. The Today Show. Show me the money. Money in the bank. Bank of America. Abbreviation: BofA. Bofa makes me laugh. I love to laugh. This always appears in personal ads. Who doesn't love to laugh? People in TV ads love to laugh. A laugh riot. Riot gear. Top Gear. Gearing up for war. War of the Worlds. World War III. III blind...
She held the cat tightly in her arms, relishing in the warmth. It was comforting, strangely comforting, how much she could rely on her cat. His name was Alfie and he was her life. However sad it may have seemed that cat was her life.
She carried the cat out into the snow, watching as his eyes looked curiously around, desperately trying to take in all the new sights.
He'd never seen snow before. That's why she'd brought him out in the first place. She hated snow herself. Hated the way it melted the moment it touched her. Hated the...
Whitechapel 1888. There was blood on my pillow again this morning when I awoke. My landlady has already been asking too many questions. It is time I moved to another residence.
I am looking forward to reading the newspapers today to gather the latest opinion on the terror in their midst. My good friends have been spreading rumours in many quarters so there have been a myriad of possible suspects, including those in very high places. The police are far too stupid to know where to look. I take especial delight in fooling Inspector Abberline, who should never have been...
The sun this morning grows short thick shadows from the cobblestones. A sweaty head against the curb, red hatching at his temple, bleeds dark light onto the lane.
Did someone win last night?
No, the square is too clean.
But it's too late for so little noise.
Perhaps the town has emptied its contents into the universe, jettisoned the citizenry, the mutts and ferals, the tourists and the visitors.
Oh, the visitors.
Who were those visitors? Cheerless, I thought at first. But, no, I reconsidered, occupied.
I look back at the sweaty head, shake mine, and continue, hand in my...